Accomplished by Six AM

• 25 minutes of cardio
• biceps and triceps worked out
• made my lunch
• and the hubs' lunch
• made coffee
• showered
• dressed and out the door on time

Done!

What we accomplished today:

1. Tom swept and cleaned floors
2. contained blankets in nice new basket
3. gave the puppy a bath
4. cleaned the puppy's ears
5. Tom cleaned the toilet/bathtub/mirror
6. cleaned the bathroom sink, including surrounding sink accessories i.e., soap dispenser, toothbrush holder, q-tip jar, and mini-mirror
7. planned Monday dinner
8. scored 9 out of 10 on my accounting quiz
9. studied for Thursday's accounting midterm
10. bought puppy food
11. watched 3 or 4 episodes of The Sopranos
12. ate tomato soup
13. went to lunch with mom and dad
14. stopped @ Costco for cleaning wipes, laundry detergent, and avocados
15. took a nap

I love productive yet relaxing days.

June 1st

Today is June 1st. Let's play catch up.

-- I am filling in for a manager for the rest of the summer, which means I now have my own office. With a window. I had to train my replacement during the last couple weeks in May which is why I didn't write. Also, work was super busy. We just entered into a new contract which brought on many many changes and many many questions about how we would adapt. It's exciting but also scary (lots of downsizing) which makes me glad that I'm getting my MBA.

-- I took the GMAT on May 21st. My score was 570. I'll take it. The average score of the last Professional MBA class was 580 so I think I'm in. I just need to submit my essay and resume (which I should be working on now but instead I'm here). I totally sucked up the quantative section, sucked meaning in the 23rd percentile. Ouch. But my verbal section was pretty damn good: 87th percentile. And my writing received a perfect score: a 6. Mostly I'm just glad it's over and hopefully I'll never have to take it again. If all goes according to plan, I'll start school this fall.

-- I had to fix up the yard for a luncheon. I had my work ladies over for lunch out on the patio but before anyone could see my semi-scary backyard we had to mow and edge and fix up the flower beds and de-weed the patio. Plus, it's been raining here like mad and the grass was like a jungle. The puppy would disappear and make tracks through the long grass, like a safari evertime she went potty. The luncheon was so lovely. The weather was nice, a bit windy, but the food was great and I love my dear ladies.

-- It's time to renew our lease at the little cottage. I can't believe we've been there for a year. It has been so lovely to live downtown and close to work. The house is just right for the three of us and when I start school it will be convience itself. Of course, getting ready for our landlady to walk through has been a pain in the ass. Not that our house is a pig pen; we just want it to look spic and span so she know how fabulous we are. Tom had to patch a couple holes in the wall and I need to clean all the windowsills. Luckily the yard is already taken care of.

-- And finally, we caught the mouse. It took a week. He was very smart. After the snappy "humane" traps failed to produce results, we switched to the sticky traps. We placed four at random places in the kitchen and the first night we caught a big ugly centipede. Every night we'd hear the mouse clanging around -- probably scavenging for food -- but I guess he tiptoed around all the traps. Finally, we woke up to a loud high-pitched yelp. The poor thing had its body and tail stuck to the trap, all but his head. I put the stuck mousey into a plastic bag and Tom took it outside to chuck it in the garbage ... but only after smacking it against the ground a couple times to make sure it was dead. Needless to say, my husband never wants to use sticky traps again and I'm overjoyed that our guest is gone.

Invader Day #2

All right. The mouse traps are set, complete with peanut butter, which the mouse trap instructions tell us is best. We have one mouse but we put out two in different places. The traps say "100% Guarantee!" so how can we go wrong?

Nothing caught.



I was really looking forward to a dead mouse this morning. If we don't catch the bastard by tomorrow morning, we're switching to the glue traps. I know I'm a vegetarian and I get caught up in ethics causes but I don't care if you hate me for using them or if the world thinks I'm a terrible person; mice do not belong in my house infecting us all with the hantavirus (which I didn't know was one word until I googled it -- ha!). I will use whatever I can to get rid of them. Invaders beware, if you come to my house, you will get fucked up.

Worst of all, the puppy ran in, saw the peanut butter and tried to eat it which made the trap close on her widdle lip.

Poor puppy.

Asshole mouse.





Hantavirus Image

 

Eek!

Hold your trousers: we have a mouse in the house.

Ugh.

This morning my husband opened the door to the back bedroom and saw a something-fast run away from the bag his sandwich from the previous night had been in. He looked all around but didn't see anything so he took the bag into the kitchen where he discovered the packaged crackers had been nibbled into. And then, if we needed more proof, we found MOUSE DROPPINGS in the bottom of the bag. Can I just say, this mouse is an asshole. It's not enough that he breaks into our home and consumes our crackers (albeit undesired and probably would have been thrown away crackers), he has to leave two little shits behind. Thanks.

I'm sure this happened because we leave the door to the backyard open for the puppy in the afternoon, sometimes for hours; she enjoys running in and out of the house) but this practice will have to stop if MICE are going to consider it an open invitation. Now we have the unfortunate task -- and enormous pain in the ass -- of catching said mouse and ensuring we are rid of all pests. I find my mind recalling the episode of Sex & the City where Mikhail Baryshnikov kills the mouse in Carrie's kitchen with a frying pan. I suppose I'll have to arm myself. I have no qualms about employing any type of mouse trap; frying pan, sticky paper, the killing kind that snap their heads off. And then I'll chuck the lifeless body in the bin with glee.

I hate uninvited guests.

Goal: Organize Myself

I have a goal.

Get Organized.

It's very sneaky.

Just when you think you're getting close,

Life happens and you have to start all over again.

So I've got it down to 2 easy to follow parts:

1. Bankers Boxes

2. Throw Away

That means that you buy Bankers Boxes,

Label them,

And keep stuff in them.

And once a month, you throw one away.

Repeat.

For life.

Then enjoy the loveliness of simplicity.

Doing Nothing

Since the performances last week, I have had a break from ballet and apparently that translates to my brain as a break from everything. I haven't done my hair or put on an ounce of make-up all week. I haven't done any laundry or cleaned up one mess. Yesterday I finally caved and emptied the dishwasher so it could be loaded again. And today I am going to TRY and get the laundry done. And tomorrow I'm going to TRY and do some grocery shopping. I have a ladies luncheon on Sunday, for which I'm making Gourmet Mac and Cheese and I am completely unprepared.

But can I just say ...

There are few things as liberating as giving the finger to society's expecations. I can understand why people become social deviants; it's very freeing. Successful women are expected to do everything; career, school, babies, marriage -- and all the while look fabulous, eat healthy, face smiling. Unfortunately the desire to maintain societal norms plagues even the most open-minded of us. However, this week, I've said, "No thank you" and gone all natural. My face is perfectly clean. My hair has no hair spray, no back combing. When I go to sleep at night I look exactly how I will look in the morning. I've never wanted to be one of those women. You know, the women that can't just pick up and go because they have to put their face on. I mean, I may look less attractive without makeup on, but that's my face; my real, honest-to-goodness face, as nature intended. And I'm not afraid to show it to the world ... or my husband. I'm not saying that I'm not a fan of makeup. I am. I love the stuff. And I enjoy spending hours getting ready and making myself up to the nines. It's just that occasionally I like to feel simple, to live simple, to take 10 more minutes to read instead of primping my hair. I challenge all of you to give it a try. Let your beautiful self out -- uninhibited by colors and concoctions. And say hello to the mirror.

24/7

I don't know how I survived the week.
In addition to tackling new projects at work --
Monday: Bought a new car.
Tuesday: Signed the lease for our new house.
Wednesday: Ballet -- last day in the "baby" class.
Thursday: Attend Advanced Class, then go to dinner with Caitlin and Cam.
Friday: Advanced class again, this time with pointe. Then dinner and Iron Man 2, followed by an after party that lasts until 5AM.

I was awake for 24 hours. I haven't done that for a very long time.
Now it's time to tackle the hated mountain of laundry.

Where O Where

Where have I been? Well, I've been busy. As you know, my birthday was Monday the 19th. Here's what's happened since:

• Shopping excursion with Mr. Tom which resulted in some great finds for him and me, most especially, my nude heels. Ultra fab.
• Bad headache which made me miss ballet.
• Discovered a yummy Thai restaurant close to home.
• Learned my new job ... which I love.
• Got a mani-pedi. The pedicure was great, as always; I won't be getting a manicure again. Apparently I hate it when other people work on my hands. Weird.
• Went to Cass's and Michael's wedding, which was beautiful.
• Went to a birthday party.
• Went to lunch @ Thaifoon with my sister-in-law. Yum-O.
• Bought the most wonderful headband.
• Mom made me a yummy birthday dinner and cake.
• The Cowboy Brothers came in 1st on Amazing Race.
• I bought a pink iron.
• The puppy barked at the ironing board. Hilarious.

And now I'm busy with work and finding a new apartment. Where does time go?

A Charmed Life

Today was possibly the best Monday in the history of Mondays.

It started out early early in the morning. On Sunday night we tried to make a frozen lasagna; we set the oven, we set the timer, we went upstairs to veg out. Ding ding! And then downstairs for some yummy eats ... oh, but we forgot to turn on the oven. So now we wait for another TWO hours. In the meantime we enjoy a glass of wine and watch 'Mallrats' (never before seen in our lifetime) and as Sunday passes into Monday, we enjoy our lasagna in bed together. Before we go to sleep, Tom wishes me a happy birthday.

3 hours later, I wake up to go to work. Time to start my new and improved job. Can I just say: I am going to love it. Best job ever. My friends helped me celebrate my birthday with some treats and a 24 pack of Diet Coke. Friends at work make work survivable.

Then it's time to hop in my sunny but old car. I love the smell of the old car on hot days. It reminds me of the first time Tom and I took it out for a ride. We rolled down the windows and drove fast on deserted roads. Plus, the car's evil spirits disappear when the sun comes out; no squeaking, no squealing, no scraping of windshields. I stopped by the PO Box to pick up my newly arrived leotards (hooray!) and chuckled to myself at the jam packed PO Box ... they know I work for the Postal Service and must hate me. My new InStyle is here and 3 Pottery Barn catalogues.

And then I arrive at my mom and dad's house. My mom is sitting outside on a lawn chair and she waves to me as I drive up. The dogs are running around with my puppy. Dad joins us, sitting right on the grass and playing with the dogs. I'm worried my dog will overheat and DIE from chasing the dogs, so I get her a few ice cubes and we all laugh at how she collapses into the cool grass. My family wishes me a happy birthday, hugs all around, before I leave for home.

Ballet later tonight.

Life is good.
Life is happy.
Life is simply wonderful.

Accomplishment Is...

working for 8 hours

changing the sheets on the bed

tidying the bathroom counter

cleaning the bedside tables

organizing the hubs' desk

organizing my desk

hiding the unsightly mail pile

two loads of laundry washed, dried, and put away

taking all the garbage out

feeding the puppy

making love

sleeping at peace

Issues with Laundry

Perhaps someone can help me out. I hate myself when I do the laundry. Notice, I didn't say I hate the laundry; I hate myself when I do the laundry. This is why:

I wash.
I dry.
What's in the dryer doesn't make it out -- see previous post.
So what's in the washer doesn't make it out either.
Then I have to rewash.
And rewash.

I have an incredible abhorrence to mold or the smell of mold or even the possibility of mold. That moldy smell is my worst enemy. Sometimes I get a whiff of it from people that I interact with and I am sorry to say, I think, why don't you wash your clothes? Have you ever dried your hands on a towel, only to find that afterwards your hands smell moldy? It's the strangest smell; slightly piney with a hint of sharp old water that's been underground in a bucket. Once you have it, it is SO hard to get rid of. Maybe it's in my head, maybe it's stuck in my nose, but I keep smelling my fingertips, my clothes, the washing machine, the towels -- and I swear it's still there. Stinking. Like mold.

Now, I know that the best way to avoid all the water and detergent waste is just to DO THE LAUNDRY. But it's so hard. I have like 50 gazillion things that I can't dry, so before I can even put them in the dryer I have to sort. This problem is compounded by the fact that I have a strict laundry process. Things have to be washed in a certain order and put away in a certain order. So I can't just take things out of the dryer without the intention to fold, match, hang, and organize. And sometimes I don't get around to that step in my process. So the clothes sit. And I rewash and rewash. Does this happen to anyone else? Or am I alone with clothes that probably don't even smell like mold, but are washed multiple times, because I couldn't get them out. Or get myself out.

Happy Belated Easter

Last night as we were making a late dinner, Tom opened the cupboard and said, "Oh."

I turned to my beloved, waiting for the epiphany, thinking it must be some declaration regarding food in the cupboard. He continued, "I think there's a chocolate bunny under the passenger seat in the old car. I'm gonna go get it. It's probably still good, right?"

And away he went to retrieve it.

Satisfied?

When I was in High School, I did NOT take psychology. I wasn't that interested...and I also figured best not to wade in uncharted waters. But once at University, I took a 1010 course in sociology and then an advanced course titled 'Sociology of Gender.' Fascinating stuff, sociology. Of course, it's a 'soft science' based on the general, not the specific, but it is nevertheless, fascinating. And, being a feminist, I love to ruminate on the sociological effects of being classified as "female" because I know how much of gender is reared -- not biological. I for one enjoy the constraints of girlhood; I love pink. I love getting dressed up. I love shopping. And so on. And if you were to ask my mother she would tell you that I loved those things as a small child, nay, an infant. She always tells people about how I loved dresses as a little girl. My mother is not a girly girl. Where did my ultra conformist feminine personality come from? Who knows. Perhaps I am simply more willing to go with the societal flow.

I am happy as a girl.

That is not to say that I am constrained by my gender, or by the gender of other people. I will stretch outside of my comfort zone to non-traditional territory. For example, many of you know that my husband did not work while he went to school and I was the bread winner. It did not bother me, but it did bother others. Maybe "bother" isn't the correct word; people thought the situation worth commenting on. And by commenting, I mean make snide remarks about how he wasn't employed even though he was not employed by choice, and a student, and we made plenty of money. These comments pissed off my gender sensibilities. WOMEN stay home all the time. WOMEN are unemployed often, or do intermittent work with no career path in mind. MEN do not comment on this situation.

Why don't they comment? Perhaps because they think it benefits them, or the family, or the wife herself. I for one do not think the cost is worth it. For those of you who know me personally, you know that I enjoy being busy, and yes, my opinion is slightly jaded towards being a "working woman." Part of this is because I know myself and I know that if I stayed at home I would be insane. Said insanity would then drive me to an asylum of some sort -- just to get me out of the fucking house. That is what I call self preservation.

I suppose this rant is coming from a head full to the brim of thoughts about wifedom and domesticity. Because, like I said, I don't mind my gender assignments, but maybe that's because I'm not trapped by them. Tom allows me to do and BE what I choose, and I in turn allow him the same. I'm reading 'The Feminine Mystique' and let me tell you; the mind reels. In the late 50s, after emancipation, during civil rights, even extending out to the hippy era, women all across the country were falling for the happy housewife. This myth that women are better in the home than in the work place. And women all across the country were tricked into thinking that college, even high school, were only as good as the husband it would catch them. Education was a means to an end; that end being a husband and family. Birth rates skyrocketed as women believed that their sole and best purpose was to procreate. Women were "happiest" at home cleaning and raising kids and taking care of their husbands and reading drivel and selling away their own dreams. (Does this sound familiar to anyone? Hello, Utah? Are you listening? Utah is still, to this day, a place where women stay home to raise a family and even though they are some of the most educated women in the country, they aren't doing anything with it. Perhaps this cultural phenomenon is tied with Utah's high methamphetamine abuse...) Sometimes I wish I wanted kids, simply because it would be an easy out. Throw my passions into my children, into motherhood, and worry about their well being rather than my own future. But that's not fair to me or to my hypothetical kidlings. That is not what would make me happy.

I think Carrie Bradshaw said it best: "Perhaps as women we've been given too many options...now we're unable to make a decision." The women's movement empowered women to think that they could do and be anything they wanted because they had been given the right to vote. But sometimes I think -- men always had the right to vote and they don't feel as though they can do or become anything. So maybe we got the wrong idea; our dreams got so big we couldn't possibly attain them and to make the failure less painful, we stay home, stay small, stay safe. I'm not meaning to bash stay-at-homes by saying this. In fact, Charlotte, in the same episode, said, "The women's movement is supposed to be about choice" which I believe. I believe in doing what makes one happy and obviously this is something I wrestle with in my own brain quite often. And I still have a difficult time putting the thoughts down in a comprehensive manner...

I guess what I'm really trying to say is: what will satisfy me?

In Bed

All day in bed today.

Skipped the gym.

Opted for sleep.

Breakfast in bed.

A little television.

A little kissing hugging snuggling.

A little laughing tickling loving.

A little sleeping.

More sleeping.

Sunlight in the window.

Sunlight in the bed.

Up just in time for work.

I loathe my laziness.

But I love our bed.

Chores

I hate undone projects around the house. Whether it's ongoing chores or a one-time thing, I can't stand seeing them lying around, mocking me. I have bursts of ambition (usually the day before I actually need to get the thing done) and when the day comes, I will look for any sort of distraction to keep me from doing it. And I really WANT to do them because I want the house to be nice, but I also want to have fun or take a nap or watch tv or go see a movie or go out to dinner...pretty much anything else. Oh well. Here are some things I'm trying to get done this weekend:

• Unpack books and put on bookshelves
• Take down Christmas tree and decorations
• Put up shelves in the garage and fill them with various crap
• Organize the mail
• Build the table we bought at Ikea a month ago
• Do the dishes
• Clean the bathroom
• Get a car wash

Hopefully nothing interesting (or uninteresting) will keep me from completion.

The State of Love

Love is one of those unnatural things. Lust, infatuation, friendship, even liking someone - these are all normal. But true love between two adults -- two separate beings with separate thoughts and feelings -- that is incredible.

Because, you see, unlike the love between family and children, these two adults make a conscious decision to be together every day. Or, at least, they should. It's no wonder that marriages fall apart; that lovers leave; the feelings fade. Who can constantly decide that they want to breathe air or drink water? After being together for a while, for some people "a while" could be two days or two lifetimes, but whenever that period comes, people get comfortable. They get lazy. Somewhere along the way the love can turn to familial love, which is not to say that it doesn't work or that people can't be happy that way.

But it's not for me.

I'm not a great romantic. I don't like forced romantic gestures like door opening or beds of roses. But I do like choice. An adult decision to be together and accept that we choose to be together - not because it's easy or familiar or comfortable - but because we want the other one around. We want feeties in the bed, ticklish necks, hair on the shower wall, water bottles on the floor, socks everywhere, eggs and bacon in the morning, a sink full of dishes, a bed full of pillows, lots of hugs, lots of kisses, lots of I love yous, lots of fights, silliness, sadness, and love.

Chosen love.

Sleeping on the Floor

The bed is supposed to be a haven; beautiful bedding complete with piled pillows, blankets, and a comfy mattress. It also helps to have a comfy sleeper next to you. Currently, our box springs and mattress are on the floor. I hate this for many reasons, one being that, while I'm sure there is no difference, I feel like I'm not sleeping as well as I usually do. My neck feels quirky, my back stiff, my shoulders squishy. But the main problem is a twofold problem: I can't put up the bedframe because it is so old we can't move it once it's up and I don't yet know where I want to bed to go so I guess we'll just keep sleeping on the floor until I make up my mind. Hopefully my mind won't get a crick in it...

Something Blue

My Tom loves to eat macaroni and cheese of the blue box variety. It is one of his usual after work meals that I usually prepare for him. However, on Saturday nights after having not eaten all bloody day, I am in no mood to cook up delicious cheesy pasta for anyone - regardless of how much I love them (yes, I will be a very mean mother). But tonight is Sunday and I have a satisfied belly so am in a much more amiable mood.

I always take out the pot and start the water boiling. I salt the water generously and put the burner on high. Once the water is at a hearty bubble, I throw in the noodles (only spiral or character shaped - NO elbows for us) and turn down the heat. After soft to the bite, the water gets drained and in go milk (an extra splash for good measure), faux margarine (the extra healthy, no trans-fat, no hydrogenated, plus omega 3s, plus flax seed crap), and cheese packet. Mix it up and then comes the best part: my test bite. Every time I make Tom's m and c I get one spoonful of cheesy, milky, piping hot noodles. You know, to make sure I made it right.

I gave up eating macaroni and cheese pretty much at birth. An adolescence of dance equals an adolescence of weight worries - so I always abstained from those "fattening" dishes - like macaroni and cheese. Plus, as a kid we never really had box mac and cheese at the house. When Tom and I were in high school and a mutual friend of ours invited us rappelling, Tom told me he would bring lunch for us. We had spent many late night conversations discussing all of the things we liked and disliked - and of course, this dish came up - especially because it was (and still is) one of the only things he could cook. He told me that he makes the BEST macaroni and cheese because he always pushes the noodles into the water with the bottom of the box, and he always adds a little extra milk. Once we were at the cliff, I was too scared to go down the mountain (big surprise) and so we sat in the car at the bottom of the rock face and ate his delicious macaroni and cheese cold.

We always have our pantry stocked with blue boxes - ready for making and remembering all the little reasons we fell in love.

I Heart Hearts

Artichoke hearts, my love - to you I say: yum.

You are very delicious and nutritious and high in fiber.

I buy you in bulk at Costco.

I bring you home and ask Tom to open your jar.

He complains because the marinade gets on his hands.

I pour all the marinade down the drain.

I refrigerate you and enjoy at my leisure.

Again, yum.